


Hate the way

by Luenetta



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:45:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luenetta/pseuds/Luenetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How are you so good with numbers when you can't remember the last time you ate? Counting everything from minutes to seconds to calories, heart beats and syllables in words you'd never get to say. </p><p>Maybe if you skip your dinner make yourself a little thinner then maybe he'll love you and stop looking at those other girls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. bomb

**Author's Note:**

> The vast majority of this was written on my phone in a diary app. Eating disorder trigger warning, there will be eventual Bro/Dave.

How are you so good with numbers when you can't remember the last time you ate? Counting everything from minutes to seconds to calories, heart beats and syllables in words you'd never get to say. 

You had been getting so strong lately; able to deny even the most tempting of meals. Everything you had loved to consume as a child, you now frantically scraped down the garbage disposal. Panic. Satisfaction. Relief. Guilt. Panic. And over again. 

There were days where you ate of course. Little things that you made sure to swallow down in front of your brother to avoid suspicions. And afterwards, you'd crawl off to your room and do sit ups till you felt sick. 

You lie in your room, dragging your fingers across your bare stomach. You remembered and cursed the time you weren't able to feel your ribs. You touched them top to bottom, taking in every ridge. They weren't completely visible yet, but if you were to stretch in front of a mirror properly you'd be able to count. It felt like the bones you could feel were keeping you anchored. 

You moan quietly and contently, feeling your stomach grumble in complaint. The hunger pains are powerful, but luckily, you're much stronger. They only make this more satisfying. 

Twelve cups of water, you figured for the day. Spread out every hour. You pester your friends to keep distracted from food. You play video games and make comics; things you're pretty sure you enjoyed, but have no idea why. 

Your first obsession was a gap; that beautiful space that a lot of people had right between their legs. Gorgeous people. You wondered, if you were to get that gap, you would become one of them. You wondered if your brother would even be able to see a difference. You ran every morning and afternoon, your legs in motion constantly for a month and a half. 

Your legs would begin to shake as you ran and once they did, you knew your run was halfway through. It reminds you of that awful Saturday.

The mirror clapped for you, seeing the space between your thighs. Feet together, legs apart. You felt proud, all of that hard work had really payed off. In fact, you even found reason to treat yourself to something small.

You left your home, had a slice of pizza and an ice cream cone, then walked home as the sun went down.  
The moment you put your hand on the door, something felt off. Your heart raced but you shoved it open, denying what you saw. Your brother was sprawled on the couch with a woman you had never met, and she  
immediately sat up and smiled at you. 

She giggled and apologized, and you just stared. She was so small. So lovely. The pizza churned in your stomach, the guilt rotting you, you were sure. 400+350 it was not okay, not okay. As for your brother he just kept his normal expression, not saying a word. You ran off to the bathroom, tried to get it up, but all you got was watery eyes and a tight stomach. 

Maybe if you were that small....

Your second obsession, little thing that made you keep going, was collarbones. You noticed girls at school started wearing these lovely little shirts that were cut right below those arches, and immediately knew you wanted them too. 

You rubbed below your neck, feeling for the bones that showed so clearly on most people, but were hidden on you. You looked up why that was so, and the most common answer was that everyone was built 'differently'.

You're sure that they're just buried under fat.

You dropped your reward days, replacing food treats with things like new headphones and nice supras. It felt much better. 

Rewarding yourself with food, Dave? Are you a fucking dog?

The third obsession was ribs. And look, here they were finally beginning to say hello. Took long enough really, bastards. 

You forget where your mind was even going when you hear a knock on your door, your brothers silhouette coming into your room. He's holding something and your heart skips a beat, your chest tightens and you want to cry.

A relatively large cupcake, bright red frosting coating the top. There's a lit candle as well, and his grin is telling you that he's proud; like he had made it or something. That thing has to be at least 430, 500 since he baked it. 

A bomb, really. 

He tells you happy birthday and sits on the side of your bed. There was always a fight to get you out to the dinner table for things like this, so he just let you do your thing in your room for the most part. 

You nod at him, fake a decent smile, then tell him you're too tired for sweets. He cocks a brow, unconvinced. It was alright, you had plenty more of these. You try to explain that ever since that snickers bar he gave you that your tooth hurt. He laughs and tells you to eat the fucking thing. Your brother, charming as always, attempts to maneuver it into your mouth. You sputter, pulling away, pulling, moving, and then you snap. How dare he barge in to break what you had worked so hard on? You grab the cupcake and crush it before throwing against the wall, your breathing a bit more erratic than it should have been. 

He stares, lost at why you would be that way. You want to cry and apologize, but you know it's too late. You've hurt him now. He leaves and slams your door, and you crumble in your bed. 

Your phone beeps repeatedly, happy birthday from your dear friends, and you feel sick. You wonder why TT speaks with you even though she's so smart, and why a nice girl like GG bothers with some asshole. GT is a dumb ass, that you loved, but forbid yourself from doing so a long time ago. 

You fall asleep crying and then you wake up to the smell of bacon and something else sweet. You figure he's cooking, but when you feel a weight beside you, you know this is much more dangerous. 

He's hovering over you with a plate.

You try to run out of the room, and it only takes one arm to shove you down. He's obviously confused at this; as many strifes as the two of you had, he figured you'd be able to leave a god damn room. He tries to smile and shoves you playfully, you crumble under the touch. 

He puts the plate down and helps you up, muttering a holy shit little man and puts you in bed. It was dizzying to stand. He looks afraid, and firmly grips your sides. Your expression changes feeling the leather of his gloves on you. Your expression drop and your heart sinks when he pulls your shirt right off of you.

He just stares at you, for why feels like forever but you know it's only been a moment. 14 seconds actually, you counted. Your heart flutters momentarily, the sick realization sinking in. He's looking at you, you have his full attention. Those pounds you dropped? They're making him see you. You smile at him. 

He mumbles something along the lines of Jesusfuckingchrist and leaves, being careful to close the door without slamming it. 

Maybe if you dropped five more? He wouldn't walk away. Perhaps he would have stayed and said you were beautiful, maybe ruffled your hair. You cough and you know you need to cry when everything tightens, but nothing comes out but a neurotic laugh that makes you laugh harder. You're so awful. Just the worse. But you'd probably less awful if you lost seven. 

He's finally noticing you and the way he stared so intensely at you? As if you were the only thing in the room that mattered and he wanted to pull you out of yourself in the most beautiful of ways. As if behind that shocked expression, he maybe thought wow Dave, you look lovely?

That was worth ten.

You'd keep going, and become stronger just like he had taught you.


	2. Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (ish) is sort of an in between, so Bro isn't just a soulless figure? From his point of view. Have the next one mostly done but needed this between em.

You aren't a bad guardian, you had thought. You make sure your little brother has a way to school, garbage to wear, and stuff in the fridge for when he gets home.

Your job is a bit demanding, but money doesn't grow in trees. At least that's what you tell yourself when you have to practically scream at yourself to get out bed at five.

By the time you get home you're completely exhausted and black out on the couch. You're proud to know your kid is sensible enough to make some dinner for himself and go the hell to bed without you having to get on his case. 

He never seemed to get into any serious trouble, and he even had friends that he used to bring up all the time. You got gifts for him on holidays to ensure that he wasn't being deprived of fun shit, but not enough to come out a spoiled brat. So why was he acting so upset? 

Around now was the time he was supposed to be evening out and getting bigger, losing his baby soft and replacing it with just a bit of muscle. So why was he getting smaller?

The day before had been one of those holidays. You bought some pretty ironic hello kitty cupcakes but they fell apart in your truck, so you resorted to baking the damn things yourself. The things were tiny anyways, so you figured Dave would want something bigger anyways. 

It was pretty obvious that he wasn't happy with it.

After dwelling on it for too long that night, you decided that he must have just wanted something more than a song and a cupcake. You had failed to make his birthday anything special, so you excuse him for being completely pissed. 

You'd make it up to him tomorrow. 

The entire night consisted of browsing amazon and googling gifts for teens that weren't painfully lame. You're admittedly awful at things like this, but why not try. 

You wake up early and make him breakfast, quietly stepping into his room and staring down at him with the plate. Before you have a chance to wake him up his eyes open slowly,  
and he makes a weak attempt to leave the room. You hold out your arm in front of him, and apparently that's enough to keep him from darting. 

You figure that he just wasn't ready and shove him with a smile, trying to let him know you weren't trying to start a strife or anything right now. He crumbles in front of you and to be honest, it kind of shocks you.

The tee that he's wearing for bed makes him look so small, but you could have sworn that he had that shirt when he was so much younger. In fact, you're positive. You hold him up to keep him from falling again, and he stands in front of you carefully.

Why does he look so small?

You peel off his shirt without a fight, and you watch his breathing carefully. Jesus Christ, had you been feeding him? Everything clicks together and you cover your mouth with your hand, disbelief and regret hitting you like gunshots. 

You exit the room. 

\--

Your name is Bro strider and you're pretty sure you're an idiot. 

After looking it up over and over again you get all the same answers, and mouse over your options and try not to slam your fists down when you reach a statement that breaks your heart. 

'There is treatment, but no real cure.'

Bullshit.  
You'd fix him.

You'd do it yourself.

Time could heal all wounds? Why the hell was he doing this? You read that it wasn't a cry for attention but it was starting to seem more and more like such. But then why would he keep it a secret? 

 

You leave him alone, but slide a note under his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again if there are any wild mistakes or grammar issues (damn phone auto correct) then let me know?


	3. High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which bro thinks his note fixes things, when in all actuality it makes things that much worse.

Three words was all it took. 

You wake up wishing you could go back to sleep, and it takes all of the willpower in the word to get you to actually sit up. 

You don't feel like moving today, and you probably won't. A day break from painful exercise shouldn't hurt you anyways. Your knees are a little weak but you walk to the door after noticing a little sheet of paper. 

It's the sort of paper that your brother uses when he writes notes to excuse you from being late, or when he leaves notes on the fridge to tell you that he'll be gone for a while for work.

He probably left, you think to yourself as you open the folded sheet. But the words shock you and you hold it to your chest, never wanting to let it go. His handwriting is messy, and the note smells like him. You feel a sensation that moves from the back of your neck to the very bottom of your feet. You can't help but smile and you flop back onto your bed, reading the note over again. You suddenly feel like you could starve properly for months, and you want nothing more than to walk miles and miles. You don't have time to slack off. 

At school for the next week, you go through your classes and end up day dreaming for most of the time. Focusing on an empty stomach is mostly impossible, and their voices seem to blend like background noise. 

At lunch you avoid people and sit alone, not wanting anyone on your ass. You have a tray, but the only thing you have on it is a bottle of water and a green apple. You hate this; as you smell the food and here people chewing and laughing, you try not to sneer. You watch a girl take a bite of a sloppy joe (35), and stare as some asshole finishes a carton of chocolate milk (340). Thank god you have your glasses on, or else you'd be known as the freak who stares at people eat instead of just the freak with the shades. You stare at your water, checking the calorie content. Every time it's a zero, but you don't feel right without checking. You chug it down and take a single bite of your apple, before leaving the tray and hiding in the library. 

You get dizzy in the hall at the end of the day, and a teacher calls out to you from the doorway to ask if you're feeling okay. She has to call your name three times, and you only notice because she literally yells your full name the last time. You turn suddenly and shoot her a thumbs up, before ramming into a person in front of you. 

You mutter a my bad and give another thumbs up before going home. Your brother always tells you to take a bus, but you need to burn enough to be able to have a clementine (50) when you get home. 

It takes you almost an hour and a half to trudge home, and you practically fall into the doorway. Your stomach hurts and your sight is fuzzy, but somehow you still feel on top of the world. High from hunger mixed with the motivation of that note was enough to make you deny the clementine and have eight carrot sticks (4.5 per stick) instead. 

You see the food in your fridge and want to consume everything you see, but force yourself out of the kitchen. You once read that if you keep a rubber band around your wrist and snap it when you want to eat, your mind begins to associate food with pain. You called bullshit, but it had been your saving grace for a long time now. 

You check your computer and see that both TT and GG have messaged you repeatedly, wanting to know where you went. You have no way to explain, and it's hard to focus and find words. You move and fall into your mattress, your hunger high dulling down and being replaced with a need to eat. 

You feel yourself losing consciousness and decide you have no choice, but you feel the note in your jean pocket. You take it out and read it, and tears stream down your face because you can't eat. You can't let him down. You have to be stronger. You have to be strong for him like he's been strong for you. Your tears are warm, and you read it repeatedly to stop yourself from going to the kitchen. You blink to let the tears roll and end up blacking out, those three words still on your mind. You can hear his voice through the words, and you want nothing more than to make them so true that he picks you up and says them out loud. Just a little more. 

'You're beautiful, Dave."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda mad because I love how I spaced it out on mobile ao3 but then when I got on the computer to see it, it's like this hot ratchet mess and it looks like it was spaced and written by a toddler please kill me sweet babies. I also have to scroll a while on my phone so I thought it was longer, but it really....is not. The next chapter will be larger. 
> 
> Restricting does get this serious, and I do remember times where I was drinking green tea only for a week an a half. It starts with cutting certain things, counting calories, looking at tips online from other disordered people, then you try to stop eating all together. Hunger highs happen after restricting too severely. 
> 
> And on that note please love yourselves.


	4. Selfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Thinspo."

You stare down at the magazine in your hands, taking in every curve of every body on each page. You wonder what sort of things they eat and what they had to do to become so flawless. Magazines were terrible, and you never had a reason to pick one up, even when it came to admiring other people. This wasn’t your magazine at all; it was an issue you had found tossed onto the ground in your brother’s room among all of his other junk.

It was interesting to see really. So he liked foreign girls? You couldn’t read half of the pages because of the language it was in. He had always had a bit of a fascination with   
Asian cultures, you suppose. You never imagined him to be much of a person for porn magazines, and that was entirely his business. But seeing the sorts of bodies that he admired? You’d never begin to measure up to them. You take another moment to stare at a girl in the corner, and how tiny her legs looked in her uniform. What did you have to do to get that? You glare at the book and throw it to the side of your bed. 

You stand in front of your mirror and tug off your shirt, staring at all the little details. Recently you had found your work to be satisfactory, but now while standing in front of a full body mirror? Your mind was completely changed. You look down at your stomach and sides, cringing at all of the skin everywhere. Failure. With near shaky fingers you pinch your side, the knot in your throat forming. If there was one thing that would never lie to you, it was the mirror. 

Idiot. You were an idiot for being so happy with that small space between your thighs. With a glance back at the magazine, you see that don’t have a small space or a tiny triangle between their legs; they had beautiful gaps that made them look fragile and perfect and everything that you weren’t. They had perfect pink lips and pretty collar bones and their hips were tiny and made you want to weep because you’d never get that.   
You scratch at your shoulders a moment, a sinking feeling in your chest when your eyes focus on your freckles. Why did you have to be this way? 

You grit your teeth when you feel your face heat up, even more disgusted by the feeling of hot angry tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. Disgusting, really. There wasn’t time to sit around and whine and cry, if you wanted to be something you had to work for it. It was no wonder that no one wasted their time with you, you were pathetic. 

There’s a knock on your door and you pull your shirt on, crawling into bed and lying down. You hear the door open and your heart flips upside down. You didn’t pick up the damn book before hiding yourself. The only thing you can think of to do is throw the covers off of your body and on top of the magazine on the floor. You sit up on your bed and try to appear casual.

Your brother sees right through it and raises and eyebrow, before exiting your doorway. 

 

 

The next week goes smoothly with your newfound inspiration, and most of your time is spent going on lengthy walks with your headphones blasting. You try to text the few friends you have, well, had, but they’re too upset that you’d been gone without a word. You roll your eyes, not understanding why you tried. Maybe once you made yourself a little better, then they’d bother with you again. 

Your brother hadn’t been watching you very closely at all, and you feel as if you’re losing his interest. You had it and you felt it, and it was amazing, but now it was slipping away. It was a need, to hear what he had wrote from that slip of paper from his lips, but it felt so far away now. Although his eyes were always hidden behind shades, you could always tell when he was looking at you. And now? He didn’t. It was like you weren’t there, and you knew that with a few more pounds that he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off of you. You wanted him to notice you and hold you and please please notice me.

When you get home, there’s a small plate of food on the counter with a note, telling you that he’d be home late and to make sure to go to bed on time. You almost laugh and roll your eyes, wondering how he could be so silly for so long. As much as you appreciated everything he did, you had been tossing his plates in every which direction for what felt like a year now. It had taken a while, but you were even past the point of feeling guilty for wasting good food. 

You stare at the dish, noticing that he made what used to be your favorite. Only a sigh escapes your lips as you scrape the entire thing into the kitchen sink and down the drain. It was a shame, really. If only he’d make something less fattening maybe you could have taken a bite for him. It was better this way; soon enough he’d pick you up and tell you he loved you and maybe even kiss you a little. A small smile threatens and tugs at your lips at the thought. 

As you turn to leave the kitchen, you’re met with his figure. He’s very still, and you can tell that it means he’s upset. Fuck. You glance back at the sink and back to him, wondering if he actually just saw all of that. You put your head down and try to walk past him to your room, but he grabs your arm. 

He tricked you, but you fell for it. 

You don’t dare to look him in the eye, but when he doesn’t say anything, you become a bit worried. Was he that angry? You stare up and squint, trying to see his expression behind his shades. You notice his fists curled, but very lightly. You want to sink to the ground and cry and apologize, but you just stare at him blankly. 

He was hurt. 

“I sort of worked on that all night for you.”

You open your mouth but no words come out, so you stay quiet. There’s nothing you could say that would begin to be enough of an apology. You owe him so many damned apologies; for being a failure. For being insufferable in every way and for being so terrible and hideous when all he had ever tried to do was see the best in you. You were sorry for being such an ingrate and an eyesore and-

“Good night.” 

He goes back to his room and you can only watch, before returning to yours. 

You close your door and slide down the frame from the inside, curling your knees into your chest and holding them. If only you were someone different, then your bro wouldn’t be in his room hurt. You hurt him. What right did you have to do that to someone? He deserved so much more than you, it wasn’t fair. He had done nothing to be stuck with someone like you. 

You glance over at your bed and see the magazine on the ground, and pull it towards you. He deserved someone beautiful, like the people in his books. Someone that made him smile and that he actually wanted. You flip through the pages and pay close attention to their expressions, and then to their body language, then to their bodies. They were perfect. You wanted him to have someone perfect. You were so fucking selfish; this shouldn’t have been about you, trying to be something better for yourself so that he could love you; for him to pick you up and twirl you and make you feel better and kiss your tears away. 

It should have been for him. 

You hear your stomach growl and smile tiredly before crawling onto the computer, scrolling for around an hour or two on different model blogs. You paid special attention to the Asian models, and crawled into bed when you felt your face hit your keyboard. 

For him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I sort of slowed with this one because of Just Let Me Sleep, it's all good now. 
> 
> If you guys ever want to just talk to me, we can chat in the comments or you can talk to me on tumblr or skype you know! I'm always happy to chitter with you guys or even write ideas and stuff down heehe. 
> 
> This will probably get sadder before it gets happier but if you've made it this far it'll be okee! I hope.


	5. sleeves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been while, but it's summer now! I can write as much as I want now laughs. I really don't like this chapter but it's necessary for the next one so;

You are having a really bad morning. 

When you wake up, there’s an odd buzzing sensation in your head, and you feel oddly light on your feet. Your apartment is completely empty and there’s nothing to be heard besides the dragging of your feet. You stretch a bit, making your way to the corner of your room. Today is weigh in day, and if all goes well you should be extremely close to your main goal. 

You step on the scale carefully, waiting for the number to load. You dread what’s to come and swear that it’s the longest twelve seconds you’ve ever waited, but that’s what you swear every week. 

It takes a moment to completely sink in; you don’t believe it really, and it’s scary to think about. This is the number that you’ve been working towards for months now, and it just doesn’t feel right. You step off of the scale to ask it if it’s being honest, and it replies with a steady blink of the same number. 

You step in front of your mirror, lifting your shirt momentarily to see if there’s a difference. You’re not sure if you should be smiling or crying anymore. There is nothing to be upset over anymore; you finally reached your goal, so, why don’t you look any different….? You force a small smile on your face, cheering up a bit when thinking of your goal number. 

So what were you expecting? To reach some magic number and become someone else? No, you’re still an idiot blonde with a weirdly shaped face and a little too much meat in all of the wrong places. You weren’t and would never be someone like the models in the blogs or the magazines you stared at ritually, but at least you had finished something. 

Were you….finished? You sit down on your bed, contemplating for a moment. You pull your favorite magazine out from under your bed, shifting through the pages mindlessly. They looked so gorgeous and small, and you wonder what you did wrong. Maybe it was just their genes? Or maybe even what they were wearing. 

It sparks a bit of an idea, and you pull open your drawers. You haven’t purchased any new clothes in what feels like forever, and you have the vast majority of your lunch money squared away in different places. Maybe you had earned something small that would make you look a little better. 

Your brother would be gone until later in the night, so you take your time leisurely examining the different shops downtown, nothing really catching your eye. There are things that you take especially long to stare at, but know that they wouldn’t look good on you. Things that would look good on someone small, or hell, someone bigger with a better shape than you. 

That was something you had a hard time understanding. You saw girls and guys alike that you knew in retrospect weighed much more than you did, but they were beautiful. Girls that didn’t have a weird thigh gap or collar bones that were stunning. You stare at your reflection in the glass window of a store, trying to figure out what it was the differentiated you. Your gender had never been an issue, but maybe if you were a girl, then you’d be a little- 

Your thought was cut short with a buzzing in your pocket. So John actually remembered that you existed for a moment? Weird. You stuff your phone back into your pocket without reading the message and an odd sense of anger comes over you. 

It’s rare that your friends message you anymore, and it’s never to say hello or give you updates on how they are. Hell, they don’t even ask you how you are; only snap at you for not joining their group chats anymore. You wish you could be as close to them as you were before, but it doesn’t feel right. They’re so happy when they talk to each other, you’d just drag them down anyways. 

In your fit, you buy a pair of glossy red sneakers, and faded jeans that were supposed to be tight fitting but fit pretty normally on your legs. And although you didn’t want to spend everything you had, you did when you saw a nice long sleeved top that looked similar if not identical to your favorite model. You hate it near the shopping district because it smells like food, and you try sipping on flavored water to ward off painful cravings. 

You see a few different things that you wanted to try on, but dressing rooms made you panic. Being in a small space with nothing around you but your repeated reflection? It wasn’t something you’d put yourself in again. 

On your way home you feel another buzz in your pocket and roll your eyes, tempted to throw your phone into the road. They didn’t care in the least bit, so why wouldn’t they just leave you alone completely? 

When you get home, you put your bags in the corner beside the door and smile, actually feeling a bit better after getting things. On your way to your room, you don’t even notice that something is off until you see a stranger on the couch. Your heart sort of sinks, and you realize how long it’s been since he’s had someone over. 

She was perfect.

You stare at her long blonde waves; they were beachy and the color was so much brighter than yours. Her dress fits her perfectly and it takes a moment for her to notice you. She looks up from her phone and gives you a sweet smile, and a little wave. You notice the healthy glow to her skin and feel instantly jealous. You look like a ghost compared to her. Her little purse and her idiotically perfect collarbones and you bet if she stood up in those heels her legs would look sculpted from marble. Your fists curl into balls unintentionally, and you almost miss it when she speaks to you. 

“You must be his brother? He’s in the shower right now but-“ 

You tell her to get out, and she only stares at you. You repeat yourself louder and point out the door, and she actually looks hurt, but picks up her purse and leaves. You walk behind her and slam the door, locking it with an audible angry click. You pick your bags up out of the corner and rip of the tags where you stand, changing into all of your new things as quickly as you could. When you hear the water stop you don’t bother putting the jeans on, only the pretty sleeved top that you thought was picture perfect. 

You hear him come out of the shower and pull off your shades, throwing them onto the ground and standing by the couch out of breath. You lock eyes with him. 

You smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments, they really do mean a lot I want to hug you all.


End file.
